


Of All the Reasons

by fanficreader5



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Honor ain't all it's bigged up to be, Iroh has been through a lot, POV Iroh (Avatar), Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27126361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanficreader5/pseuds/fanficreader5
Summary: Prince Iroh had been ten when he learned about honor. It was an important word. It was a man’s worth. Honor was gained through acts of bravery, acts of loyalty to the Nation. Honor lay in defeating your enemies and protecting your people.Iroh wasn’t sure which enemies he needed to defeat or what acts would be brave enough, but he knew he wanted to be worthy. He wanted honor.Or, a look into how Iroh came to be the man he is.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Of All the Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> This story came to me as I was considering that Iroh deserved an exploration of his redemption arc from the Dragon of the West to the wise tea-sipping uncle we see in the show.

Prince Iroh had been ten when he learned about honor. It was an important word. It was a man’s worth. Honor was gained through acts of bravery, acts of loyalty to the Nation. Honor lay in defeating your enemies and protecting your people.

Iroh wasn’t sure which enemies he needed to defeat or what acts would be brave enough, but he knew he wanted to be worthy. He wanted _honor_.

Prince Iroh was twenty one when he killed for the first time. His opponent was an Earth Kingdom soldier, a foot soldier who was about to attack the commanding officer of the battalion until he stepped in. It was a quick stab through the neck, over in a matter of seconds.

Iroh saw the life fade from his eyes and swallowed the bile that rose to his throat. The boy seemed young, younger than himself. Life was fragile, fleeting. He’d learned that early.

Later, his commanding officer thanked him far more than he would have done to an ordinary member of his battalion. Prince Iroh tried to nod as the sounds buzzed over his head, the phantom smell of blood lingering. Moments later, he asked to be excused. He ran to the cesspit and vomited.

The years dragged on, and he learned even war could hold a sort of tedium. It was simple. A game. There were only so many tactics that could realistically be deployed. Target the benders. Send in spies. Understand the fortifications and then find ways around them. The war was always going to be one-sided. As the number of colonies grew, so did the number of soldiers in the Fire Nation Army. Offer the chance of protection and a generous stipend, and most starving families in the colonies would offer their sons.

Iroh had met these soldiers. They didn’t need to be stabbed for their eyes to already look dead.

And then there were the true Fire Nation soldiers. The ones that were sent in after the colonial recruits had taken out a significant part of the opposition. The ones whose eyes glowed with patriotism, raised on an education molded by Fire Lord Azulon himself. They would write home of the onward progress of the world’s greatest army, sending small gifts and war trinkets along with their letters.

Prince Iroh rose through the ranks, first to lieutenant, then to captain, then to major. He didn’t know if he was rising so fast due to his skills or because of his royal blood. He did not care enough to question it. The higher he rose, the more time he spent in rooms, discussing the movements of soldiers as if they were pieces on a Pai Sho table.

He would walk around campsites, knowing each face he saw today, he may never see again.

Sometimes, he thought the same when he looked in the mirror.

When home, he would spend time with his wife, Akari. She was a quiet woman, tender. It had been a marriage of convenience, arranged by his father to strengthen loyalties. But from it grew a love that was spoken through gentle caresses, quiet words, and the odd cup of tea.

Iroh knew she abhorred what he did on the battlefield, so they never spoke about it. Instead, they spoke of the capital, of the comings and goings in court. They spoke of her plans for the palace gardens. How she grew up with turtleducks that she missed. They spoke of retirement, how they may travel to the colonies and see other cultures.

Iroh refrained from telling her that little remained of local cultures once the Fire Nation had passed through. Somehow, he suspected she knew.

He also never mentioned that he did not plan on retiring. His death would be on the battlefield. Fast and honorable, much like that first soldier.

He suspected she knew this too.

“Let’s go away together,” she would sometimes say, as they lay in bed and sleep washed over them.

Iroh would take her hand in his and mumble a sleepy “we will” as he drifted into sleep. Into nightmares. Children crying as their parents were dragged away. Dead bodies piled high and set alight. Towns razed to the ground for hiding Fire Army deserters.

And then Akari’s arms would be around him, dragging him back to the surface, whispering “it’s alright, it’s alright, you’re with me.”

And then it would be Iroh’s turn to say, “Let’s go away together.”

But come the next War Council, he would sit in front of Azulon’s throne, reminded of the glory of the Nation, the fact that this was a game and one they were _winning._ And he would find himself suggesting ways to move regiments to attack from multiple sides, allowing one side to take the brunt of the hit to ensure another section of their opponent’s defenses could be breached.

It was a game. Simple as that.

Prince Iroh was twenty eight when he received the message that his wife was pregnant.

He wrote immediately to his superiors for leave, wishing to return in time for the birth of his child. The request was denied. The Fire Lord himself had ordered that he remain in Pohuai until the area was captured. The area was strategic, necessary for military supply chains for an attack on Ba Sing Se. He read the letter again and again until the edges began to crisp in his hands. He took some breaths and returned to the central tent to draft his reply.

His reply was polite but curt. He stayed in Pohuai.

The second letter arrived two days after the fall of Pohuai. Akari had died giving birth to a healthy baby boy. She had requested the baby be called Lu Ten.

Iroh didn’t know when he started crying, and he didn’t know when he stopped. He thought of their retirement plans and how he had always assumed it would be _he_ who was not in the picture. He thought of his father. He thought of the cost of war.

This time, he didn’t need to ask for leave.

Prince Iroh came home to a bed that was too big and too empty. He went in search of the nursery, picked up his child, and took him to the bed with him.

Lu Ten looked chubby and unassuming, as most babies do. And yet, Iroh could see Akari in his smile. The way one side quirked up more than the other. Iroh held him close and fell asleep.

Prince Iroh spent ten days with his son before he was called back to Pohuai to handle some local uprisings. Lu Ten cried as he left, and Iroh wondered if he would even recognize his father the next time he came back.

War was a little harder after that. In every life, he saw a family. A family that grieved, a child without a parent. He saw his own son growing up motherless in the eyes of the waterbending prisoners they took.

So he wrote letters. He wrote letters to his son who couldn’t read yet, asking them to be read to him, so he grew up knowing he was loved. He wrote of his childhood, his favorite toys, the plays he hoped they would one day watch together.

Iroh returned to Caldera for the marriage of Ozai to Ursa. The wedding was a grand affair, but all Iroh could see was the glimpses of fear in Ursa’s eyes. He wondered is Akari had looked fearful marrying him.

Ozai, on the other had, looked bored.

Once the ceremony was over, Iroh took Lu Ten’s hand and they went for a walk around the palace gardens. The boy was now five, a sweet, cheery child. Iroh watched him feed the turtleducks and thought of the likely succession of the throne to first himself, and then to Lu Ten. The acts he would have to commit as Fire Lord. He prayed a quick prayer that his son may somehow never need to sit on that throne.

Lu Ten finished the grain and looked up at his father expectantly, as if to ask what they would do next. Iroh took his hand again, and held it tight.

“Look after the ducks, Lu Ten, for good deeds always come back.”

Prince Iroh was thirty three when he met his nephew, Zuko, for the first time.

The baby was wrapped in a silk cloth and placed in his father’s arms by the harried doctor.

“It was a difficult birth, the child is lucky to be alive,” he said absentmindedly, as he searched his bag for something.

His brother held the baby tentatively, as if unsure of what to do. His lip curled ever so slightly in disgust. “There’s no spark in his eyes.”

“How is Ursa?” asked Iroh.

“She’s tired, but she will be alright.” He pulled out a syringe and a vial from his bag. “I will need to sedate her to allow her to recover.”

Iroh leaned back. Relief washed over him for the gentle woman with the fearful eyes.

“Can I hold him?” asked Iroh.

Ozai passed the baby to him and left without a word. Iroh looked down at his nephew and chuckled at the tiny frown gracing his features. He wished for the best for this bundle, hoping against hope that the war may be over before the child was grown.

Iroh had begun to tire of the war.

The Prince, now a General, felt little when he first met Azula. She was a beautiful child, with sharp eyes. She was born on the summer solstice, a good omen by any account. And yet, Iroh held her and felt watched. Evaluated. By a baby. Iroh quickly returned her to her father and retreated to his quarters, shaken by a vague sense of apprehension.

Lu Ten was eighteen when he joined the Fire Nation Army.

Iroh watched with pride and foreboding as his son marched with the 72nd division. His son was a strong firebender and a competent tactician. He would be able to take care of himself.

Lu Ten was twenty two when he was killed.

General Iroh’s men had broken through the Outer Wall of Ba Sing Se when the news arrived. He felt his hands grow numb, his breath catch, as he heard the words he had been fearing for four years.

The General neither ate nor slept. He gave no orders, not did he listen when his infantrymen gently tried to coax him to his bed or to food. He merely looked around, at this city, this incredible city filled with thousands of inhabitants living in fear because of _him._

What was the point of it all?

This war had stolen his last moments with his wife, and now it had stolen his son.

He wrote another letter to the Fire Lord, this time declaring his intention to retire and return to the capital. He then set off on an ostrich-horse towards the Fire Nation.

The Fire Lord was dead by the time he reached the capital. The new Fire Lord looked down from his throne with a sneer, daring him to speak out.

Iroh merely bowed and stood aside.

It didn’t matter anymore. Sometimes, you had to save yourself from your other self,and only then could you be your true self.

He met Zuko in the courtyard. The boy looked scared and tired, like he hadn’t slept all night.

“Uncle, I’m sorry about Lu Ten,” he spoke awkwardly, as if he didn’t know how to console a grieving man about the loss of his only child.

Iroh bowed his head. “He died serving his nation, that is all I could ask for.” His words caught in his throat.

The child nodded. In a quiet voice, he asked, “Do you know where my mother is? I’ve asked everyone but they won’t tell me.”

Iroh had heard the rumors on his way into the city. The sudden demise of his father, the disappearance of the Fire Lady on the same night.

“I don’t know, my dear nephew. But wherever she is, I believe she will stand by her actions.”

The boy looked down, crestfallen. Iroh put a gentle arm around his shoulder.

“Would you like to feed the turtleducks, Prince Zuko?”

Zuko nodded. As they fed the ducks, Iroh understood more about the boy than he’d had the opportunity to learn in their brief meetings prior.

This child was not like his father. He was not like his sister. He was a spitting image of his mother.

Two years passed slowly, with the General ( _retired_ General) attending War Meetings and advising on strategies, but only when called upon for his wisdom. He watched his nephew and niece grow up, watched as their play became less friendly, more cruel. He watched as Azula grew a cold, hard confidence that came from being both a prodigy and the Fire Lord’s favorite. He watched as Zuko shrunk and wilted, like a sunflower with no sun. He watched a bitterness set in that he feared would be the end of the goodness in him.

But the boy never gave up. He didn’t know how to.

“Let me in,” he said as he approached the curtain to the War Chamber.

Iroh tried to guide the young prince away, but the boy was adamant.

“If I’m going to rule this nation one day, don’t you think I need to start learning as much as I can?”

Iroh thought back to Lu Ten and his fervent hope that he never be Fire Lord. He was careful to not wish for the same again. He stepped aside and let the boy in.

What followed haunted Iroh’s nightmares. Alongside the memories of screaming children and the gurgle of blood pouring from a neck lay the smell of burnt flesh, his nephew’s begging reduced to a crying choke. In his dreams, he could see hundreds of faces looking on in abject horror.

This was a lesson. A lesson in humility, in obedience.

Iroh did not wish to remain in Caldera to learn if the lesson stuck.

Zuko lay unconscious as the terms of his banishment were declared. Iroh seethed as he watched his brother cast away his son.

Sometimes the spirits give the undeserving the greatest bounty.

Iroh sat beside his nephew’s bed on the rusted tub of a ship his father had given him for the wild goose chase, and watched as he stirred, his sleep regularly broken by nightmares. Then, he would hold the boy and whisper “it’s alright, I’m here, you’re with me,” until he calmed down.

He sat back and sipped tea as the boy, barely able to sit up in his bed, pored over texts regarding the Avatar. The sadness had settled on his heart.

No father banished his son with an impossible task truly wished to ever see them again.

But this was a lesson his nephew needed to learn on his own.

His nephew was a difficult child, to say the least. He was grumpy, impatient with an old man and his love for tea and snacks. He shouted at his crew. He stomped and glared.

Iroh feared the boy he’d taken to feed the turtleducks had been lost forever.

But then he would sit down to discuss the finances. He would watch as Zuko always set aside the crew’s wages first, and then considered repairs to the ship. He would nod and smile, trying to encourage this spark to grow into the flame he knew it could be. In the back of his mind, he recalled the warmth of Ran and Shaw, the way they had shown him that the fire that burns brightest was the fire of love, of life. Anyone could use fire to destroy, but it took strength of character to sustain a small flame when the elements were against you.

His nephew had been given an impossible task and had simply decided to _do it._

Iroh thought back to the conceited fool that fate had determined to be his brother. The man found an uncut diamond and tossed it in the sea. He didn’t deserve his son, and his son didn’t deserve him.

Three years passed. Iroh traveled the world, much like he’d always promised he would in his retirement. His thoughts would often drift to the long nights spent with Akari, where they would hold hands and whisper late into the night. How he had known, even then, that the titles and medals fell to dust in front of this woman. He had been happy, he just hadn’t known it.

With every port, Zuko’s bitterness grew. He chased his honor like a cat chases the light reflecting off a mirror.

_Honor._

Iroh had had _honor_ once. Iroh had stood at the top of the Outer Wall of Ba Sing Se and seen a world that was his to conquer. It hadn’t taken long for the illusion to crack, then shatter into a million irredeemable pieces.

Honor meant nothing when it came at the cost of everything you held dear.

And then the light burst out of the waters. And everything changed.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you guys think? Ideas for how to continue it or should I leave it here?


End file.
